


So Golden

by emeraldvixen



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Celebrity! Klaus, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, General fluff, Gymnast! Caroline, Mentions of Smut, Smut lite, Swimmer! Klaus, Tokyo 2020 Summer Olympics, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of minor character death, olympics! AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29964618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldvixen/pseuds/emeraldvixen
Summary: A Klaroline Olympics AU in which Britain's golden boy takes a liking to America's sweetheartORThe one in which Caroline and Klaus become friends with benefits and struggle under the weight of the public eye, impending distance and a whole lot of feelings.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 48





	So Golden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [recyclings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/recyclings/gifts).



> Brainstormed in the Klaroserver by Yokan, Recyclings and myself, what started as a drabble ended as a multi-chap. Anyway, this chapter is a little scene-setty, but please roll with me here because in order to get to the lovers, they gotta get to the friends with benefits first. I hope you'll stick it out until Chapter 2 when things get a little less gymnastic-y, and a little more KC. 
> 
> The athletes in this story are based on real Olympians. Many of their achievements, parent's roles and motivations are based off of real people. We're all just going to pretend that Klaus is 6"2 and built like a tree trunk.
> 
> For Recyclings, who is a wonderful human.

**Heat Magazine, no 1120: KLAUS MIKAELSON’S £9.2 MILLION TOKYO APARTMENT IS BASICALLY HEAVEN**

**_The swimmer will have plenty of space as he prepares for his third Olympics._ **

By Olivia Jenson, May 28th 2021.

_When you have 14 Olympic gold medals and a reported net worth of £55 million, you can live wherever you want. Perhaps that’s why Britain’s most decorated swimmer has snubbed the Olympic Village in favour of a midtown, penthouse apartment._

_The Park Court Tower is a 175 meter, 45 story luxury apartment complex. The residence offers patrons direct access to Hinokichou Park, as well as 360° views of the city below. Mikaelson will enjoy 24 hour concierge services, a gym, a party room, a rooftop balcony, a hot tub, and naturally, an Olympic regulation pool during his stay in Tokyo._

_Meanwhile, the rest of Team GB will reside in the Athlete’s Village, where the vast majority of competitors live. Mikaelson stayed in the Village for both the London 2012 and Rio 2016 Olympic Games, where internal tensions between the British swim team and their coaching staff reportedly flared. He is expected to move into his temporary home at the start of next month._

_At the age of 29, Mikaelson remains Britain’s most prominent medal hope. Having dominated international swimming for over a decade, Tokyo 2021 is expected to be his last major tournament._

_The former champion has remained tight-lipped on the prospect of his retirement, though the recent purchase of a 6 bedroom Los Angeles mansion is perhaps a sign of his desire to move to pastures new. Formerly home to NBA star, Draymond Green, the mansion sold for $9.6 million last month. That said, it’s just as likely that Mikaelson needs some time away from Europe, following his split from model, Aurora de Martel. Martel, 25, became the face of French fashion house Dior in 2018._

_As he heads into his third Olympics, Mikaelson could pick up as many as eight medals. In the meantime, he is expected to foot the bill for the extravagant living expenses._

* * *

**22nd July 2021**

For as long as she could remember, Caroline had woken up at 5am. She still set her alarm - just in case - but she didn’t often need it anymore. Getting up at 5am meant that she could be at the gym for 5.30am, which gave her three whole hours before the parent and tot classes came in. It wasn’t standard protocol for a gymnast, but simply but, she wasn’t a standard gymnast.

The day before the Olympics, Caroline had to drag herself out of bed. Jet lag and new surroundings kicked her ass, making sleep difficult and waking up almost painful. By the time she’d called an Uber and then spent a good ten minutes trying to find the entrance to the gym because all the signs were in Japanese, she was late. Thankfully, she was long past being scolded for bad timekeeping. Instead, her mom handed her a coffee as soon as she stepped inside and let her get ready in peace.

Once she’d dumped her bags in the dingy changing rooms and stripped down, she’d taken in the surroundings. Clean enough, but small and aged with chips in the bench and an outdated finish. She grabbed her water, an extra hair tie and her phone, before heading to the main hall.

The weather in Tokyo was almost exactly the same as back home, so the temperature was comfortable. The gym felt just like her mom’s, too. Underfunded and desperately in need of a refresh. It was nothing fancy. Just a converted industrial unit with painted pastel colours, a cream sprung floor and bright equipment piled high against the walls. It smelled too, a familiar mix of sweat, chalk and air freshener.

It’d have to do though, because while USA Gymnastics funded the rental of high-end gymnasiums for their artistic program, that meant there was very little support left for the rhythmic division. It was fine - really, it was. Caroline was quite used to it.

Besides, she worked best like that. Alone, just her, her mom and a blood-stained floor. That’s why she got up so early.

“How are you feeling?” Liz asked, perched on the bench as Caroline sat and rolled out her ankles.

 _Sleep deprived. Hungry. Old._ “I’m good.”

“And your leg?”

“It’s fine.”

Liz sighed and leveled her with a look.

Caroline sighed right back and stood up. She’d set her weight on it, just to prove that she could. In truth, it _had_ felt _fine_ that morning. Four airports, two hotels and the 22 hours sitting on a plane was plenty of rest for it. It was never perfect, though. It never felt like it did before. “What do you want me to say, mom? It’s going to hurt, but I’m doing it anyway.”

Liz pressed her lips together with a grim nod which Caroline took as a blessing to continue her warm up.

After a run, she sat down to stretch out properly. Her mom had drifted over to the sound system and had begun testing the music, short bursts coming at varying volumes every few seconds. Eventually she’d settled on a gentle pop song.

Despite the heaviness in her limbs that morning, Caroline stretched to her limits and then a little further. _Hips, wrists, ankles, shoulders, hamstrings, quads, back and then legs,_ just like she’d done a million times before _._

Though her right leg was still tight, she tried to focus on the positive. God, she was so lucky. How many girls would kill to compete at the Olympics? How many would kill to have their mom there every step of the way? And she got to do it _twice_? There was so much to be grateful for, so why did she feel so anxious? Not just the usual nerves which came with a major contest, but the all-encompassing dread which dropped her stomach everytime she thought about the coming weeks. She’d been wrestling with it for a long while, ever since her injury, really. With every second that ticked by, it grew more and more vicious.

She tried to focus on what she’d come to do - train with her mother for the millionth time. Sure, it was a different city, a new gym and a big competition, but it was nothing she hadn’t handled before.

Caroline was struggling with her thoughts as she pressed into an oversplit on the bench and finished the last of her coffee.

Without warning, the gym door swung open. A pale, middle aged man walked in and held the door open. Behind him… _holy shit._

For a second there was silence.

“Can I help you?” Liz called, and Caroline could hardly believe that her mother could be so quick in the face of shock.

Caroline had met Olympians before. Many of them, hundreds, probably. And yet, she couldn’t stop the heat flooding her cheeks, nor the bubbling, nervous excitement in her chest. Her heart was speeding just because she was in the same room as him. The cameras did him justice.

Thick shoulders, lean and tall, with a gym bag over his shoulder and his headphones still on. Niklaus Mikaelson was just as delicious in the flesh as he was on screen.

And god, Caroline had fantasised about that body. She was 16 when he’d first appeared on her TV, all dimples and short shorts. He’d crashed on to the scene just when she was learning what boys _felt_ like, back when visiting porn sites made her feel dirty, and making out behind the bleachers seemed like a dream come true. Back then, she’d just liked the look of him.

Everyone had. Plenty of girls at Mystic Falls High School had stuck pictures of him in their lockers next to Robert Pattinson and Ed Westwick. There was a time when she couldn’t look at a magazine aisle without seeing him on a cover. In the months after London 2012, he’d been everywhere.

And now he was… right there.

Caroline watched as her mom walked over to the doorway and spoke to the first man - another coach, judging by his jacket - in muffled tones.

She didn’t catch much of their conversation over the sound of the music still playing. Besides, she was far more interested in the spark of interest which crossed Klaus’ expression as he eased off the headphones to listen in.

Without warning, Klaus turned his head. Their eyes met.

Caroline averted her gaze quickly, cursing herself for being caught staring like a stupid schoolgirl. She pulled herself out of the stretch and turned away, though not before noticing that his eyes followed her.

She’d busied herself by crawling to her mother’s bag and finding her apparatus tucked neatly inside. Then she’d just… fiddled. What was the point in taking them out, if their practice session was clearly compromised? The men were far enough away that she knew they couldn’t see inside the bag, so Caroline shifted things from one side to the other until she heard her mother move closer.

“Double booked,” Liz said disapprovingly, coming to a stop a few feet away, “but they’re not using the floor.”

What Caroline really wanted to do was proclaim the practice ruined, pack up and enjoy a day seeing the city, but she knew that she needed to stay. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and tilted her head a little in Klaus’ direction, eyes widening to convey her surprise.

 _‘I know!’_ Liz mouthed back.

As Caroline started to pull apparatus from the bag, her mother leaned close.

“Focus, yes?”

Outside of the confines of the gym, Caroline could get away with murder. Her mom was so clueless as a parent, it was easy to tell white lies here and there. In the gym however, Liz could read her like a book. She was a far better coach than she was a mother. It was something they had both come to accept many, many years ago.

“Could you turn the music up? I can’t work if I can hear them,” Caroline replied.

Liz smiled down at her, a strange pride in her expression. “Of course. What are we starting with?”

When Caroline was ready, they began with her weakest apparatus - the ball. For perhaps an hour, she went over and over and over the routine until the coffee kicked in and her tired body felt a little more lively. With the spring in her step came more effort. Higher leaps, faster turns, greatest flexibility. Before long, her leg ached with every step.

She pressed on. She tried to focus, despite the stabbing of pain and the distraction of a shirtless celebrity conditioning on the other side of the gym. I mean grey sweatpants - _really_?! Did he know what that sight could do a hot-blooded female?! Probably, if the insufferable smirk he kept shooting her when he caught her looking was any indication.

In her defense, she could feel him watching her too. Not always, but when her music was on, she was sure she performed to an audience of more than one. She wondered if he was happy to be distracted, or if he found their presence irritating.

By the time Caroline had worked through her club and ribbon routines, the pain was sharp every time she placed weight on her right leg.

She panted as her mom listed corrections. Just little issues, a high shoulder here and a slow catch there. When she was younger, her mom would tell her that having corrections so tiny was a good thing - it meant all the big things were right. They didn’t bother with those affirmations anymore. Every mistake took a routine further away from perfection, costing tenths they couldn’t afford to lose.

Appraisal complete, she allowed herself a few sips from her water bottle and started to dream of breakfast to distract herself from the pain. For the first time that morning, she let herself really watch the men in the corner.

Klaus had his back up against the wall. He hung off a bar by his hands, doing leg raises until his brow creased and his coach tapped him down. _It should be criminal to look like that,_ she thought to herself. His abs gleamed with sweat even in the dingy, artificial light. Caroline found herself wondering what they’d feel like under her tongue.

All too soon, Klaus took a towel from his coach’s hands and wiped at his face before leaving for the locker rooms without so much as a glance in her direction.

“Caroline?”

She jolted and turned to face her mom. “Huh?”

“Did you want to skip hoop today? Maybe catch some breakfast?”

All things considered, they probably should have stayed. The Olympics only comes around every four years, after all. But between the pain, the jetlag and the gnawing hunger, Caroline was done in.

She had nodded.

She’d kept the limp out of her walk until she was well out of the main hall, where her mom couldn't see. The second the door had closed, she let the grimace show. It hurt, a fierce stab with every step. By the time she had reached the locker room door, she was struggling not to whimper. Caroline stopped for just a second to breath, setting her weight on her left leg and supporting herself against the wall.

“Alright, sweetheart?” came a lilting British accent.

Caroline stilled at the sight of Klaus across the hall, walking ever closer.

“Huh?” There was no one else in the vicinity that he could be talking to, it had to be her.

“Are you alright? You’re limping.”

Jeez, the magazines hadn’t Photoshopped the deep blue of his eyes, nor the width of his shoulders, or the bow of his lips. He wore just a thin t-shirt which stretched over his chest deliciously.

Caroline’s cheeks heated. “I’m fine, thanks.”

She pressed off the wall and masked the pain with a polite smile. Just as she moved towards the safe haven of the female dressing room, he spoke again.

“May I?”

“May you?”

“Take a look? It’s your knee, I take it.”

“Leg.”

“Cruciate?”

Caroline sighed. While she was down for exchanging pleasantries with other competitors, an inquisition wasn’t on her to do list before 9am. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Rather than flinch away from the edge in her tone, Klaus smirked slowly. “A day before the Olympics, most would take all the help they could get.”

There was something entracing about him. Yes, the looks, but something deeper too. Caroline found that she quite enjoyed being under his gaze. Besides, run-ins with celebrities made for brilliant anecdotes to tell when she got back home.

“Fine,” she breathed, shifting to sit on one of the plastic chairs which lined the wall.

As the swimmer knelt in front of her, Caroline was immensely grateful she’d had her legs waxed for the Games. His hands were warm and gentle when they brushed over the skin of her shin.

“Are you a doctor?” she asked, knowing fine well that he was not.

“I have the degree, though it’s rarely used.”

“Wait. Seriously?!” She squeaked as he straightened her leg and pressed his fingers into the muscle at her calf. First came the hard, niggling pressure of fast fingers, then the relief as the muscle relaxed under his touch. Caroline swallowed back the pleased keen.

Klaus cracked the tiniest of smiles. “No. My brother is, though. I’m sure he’d be happy to look at you.”

“I knew it. Doctors are too busy to have good abs,” she sighed before she could stop the word vomit. As soon as it was out of her mouth, she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

It didn’t help that he seemed surprised by her boldness, raising his eyebrows while his fingers faltered as they worked up her leg. “Good abs, hmm? I’m surprised you noticed, given the amount of time you spent upside down.”

“Comes with the territory.”

“When was your operation?”

It was Caroline’s turn to falter for a second. Of course he’d notice the scars. They weren’t too bad anymore, two keyholes and a slit an inch long around her knee. “Last May.”

“Six months recovery?” His hands worked higher, bending her knee and straightening it again.

She tried not to flinch, but it twinged a little. “Eight, but I was back in the gym after four.”

“Perhaps that’s part of the problem.” He set her leg down, though his fingers lingered on the bare skin of her ankle.

Look, Caroline wasn’t a slut. Not at all. But it’d been so long since someone who wasn’t a physio, or a coach, or a costume maker had touched her, and it just sparked _things_ inside of her. And then of course, there was the fact that it was Niklaus freaking Mikaelson with his hands on her bare skin. Britain’s golden boy, face of Olympic sport, star of her adolescent fantasies. She was having an out of body experience. It couldn’t be real.

She realised a beat too late that he probably wanted a reply. “Yeah well, the Olympics doesn’t come around too often.”

“No,” he agreed before standing up and offering her a hand. “Will I see you back here tomorrow? I could bring my brother to take a look, if you’d like?”

“It’s fine. Thanks. I don’t want my coach to know it’s bad.” Caroline took his hand all the same. It was softer than she thought it would be. Perhaps all those leather jackets he was photographed wearing were a ruse. “But yeah, I’ll be here.”

“Good,” he smirked quietly. “And may I have a name?”

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it, that _she_ of all people was about to be on a first name basis with a celebrity. “It’s Caroline.”

“Nik,” he offered.

When she walked away, she tried to hide the limp. His eyes followed her all until the locker door shut.

* * *

** 23rd July 2021 **

The very next day, Caroline was early. It was a mixture of going to bed too soon the night before (damn jetlag) and a burning desire to get out of the Athlete’s Village as soon as possible. It was nice enough, but she’d never been a fan of communal living and her roommate seemed to talk from the moment she woke up till the moment she went to sleep. It would be nice to have made a friend, though. Perhaps the incessant chatting would become more appealing when the jetlag wore off.

On the ride to the gym, Caroline thought she’d have to hang around in the cold until her mom showed up, but when she tried the door, it was already open. Once her things were set in the locker room, she headed to the main hall. It was chilly, just as it had been the day before.

“Caroline!” He called out, sitting up from the floor. He was shirtless again. His coach was there too, eyes flitting between them with a curiosity Caroline wasn’t keen on.

Once again, she had to take a minute to be sure that Klaus was talking to her. Then she offered a quick “hi” and a tired smile before heading over to the mirrors. She was polite enough to pretend not to notice when his coach made a sharp exit, but it was hard to ignore Klaus’ stare. She checked her phone. 5.15am.

When she looked up, he was closer. On his feet and making his way to her while he ran a hand through his curls. They were still dry, so he couldn't have started training yet.

“Good morning, love.”

Ah, there was the famous charm he seemed to throw at only the prettiest of reporters. Caroline tried to fight the smile. “Morning.”

“You’re early.”

Caroline gave him a playful side eye at the insinuation that he knew her schedule. “So are you?”

“Busy day today.”

She hummed a response as butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

That night was the opening ceremony, the beginning of the end. For her, at least. The cacophony of feelings that stirred within her were hard to straighten out. Bitter sadness to leave behind a sport she’d loved, unrelenting pride in what she’d accomplished, painful frustration that she couldn’t seem to achieve that final goal. And still, even through the heartache, the prospect of a retirement free from the pain was a relief. That relief made her feel guilty. She didn’t know how to cope with that guilt.

She also didn’t know what to do when left alone with a real life celebrity. One who seemed to be taking a particular interest in the fit of her tank top. Her cheeks flushed when their eyes met. Surely she must have imagined the sinful darkness which flickered behind his gaze?

Klaus trained his focus back to more modest areas and leaned against the wall. “How is your..?”

“It’s good, thanks.”

Caroline wasn’t green anymore. Not a timid 16 year old learning how to be a woman, nor a 20 year old looking for a husband too soon. At 24, she’d spent years learning to recognise that look - the one which indicated that a man only wanted one thing. She could see it from a mile away. And while the idea wasn’t unwelcome (in fact, he’d be very welcome indeed), the first day of the Olympics probably wasn’t the time to fall into a stranger’s bed.

He didn’t seem perturbed though, “and what abo-”

“Don’t you have something to be doing right now? Some sit ups, maybe?”

Klaus smiled, dimples popping. “I’ll have you know that I’m working very hard on my mobility. See?” he replied, flexing his wrist.

Caroline rolled her eyes, though the smile which crept onto her face probably gave her away. It was hard to not be charmed by him, a handsome man willing to spend a little time exchanging pleasantries. It was more than she’d had in a long time. “You’re really working hard.”

“Thank you. I was wondering if you had any tips.”

“Oh no. I think you’re doing just fine,” she laughed as she turned to start her run.

A warm hand wrapped around her wrist. “Caroline.”

She whipped back around. He was close, looking down at her and distractingly shirtless. _God_ , what she wouldn’t give to just… _No. No, Caroline. Olympics._ _OlympicsOlympicsOlympics._ “I need to warm up.”

“I could help, if you’d like?”

Caroline stood there, frozen.

That only made Klaus’ grin wider. “May I look at your leg again?”

“No. My coach would kill me.”

“Your coach isn’t here.”

“She will be.”

“Fine,” he replied before sitting down on the sprung floor. “You could look at my injury? I’m sure your magic touch would work wonders on it.”

Caroline snorted at the absurdity of it all, but you know, it wasn’t a bad idea. How many people could say they’d had their hands on Klaus Mikaelson? Well… actually, don’t answer that. “Where is it?”

Klaus just tilted his head towards his shoulder expectantly.

“Aren’t you going to say please?” she teased, “I thought the English were polite.”

“That’s Canadians,” he murmured, “the English understand that being direct is the quickest route towards getting what they want.”

“But not the most pleasurable,” she’d flirted before she could keep her tongue in check.

Klaus licked his lips as his gaze turned hungry.

Caroline let her fingers wander over the bare skin of his bicep, his shoulder, his back. The way the thick muscles twitched was a temptation, and she found herself wondering what his skin would look like marred with scratches. On his shoulder blade, five thick rings linked, just like they did on her ribcage. She wondered if she should show him.

Look, it’s not that she _needed_ sex. It’d been a while, but she was doing just fine with her own hand _._ It was just that hook-ups were such a rite of passage at the Games. When Caroline had first made the US National Team back in 2015, all the girls had spoken about was who had slept with who in 2012. She hadn’t had much to offer to that conversation really, other than the anecdote that she was born because her parents met at the Games. She left out the one night stand part. Her teammates seemed impressed and amused, and quickly moved on to more boy talk.

It wasn’t until she’d gotten to Rio in 2016 that she discovered just how rampant the hormones were. There were condoms everywhere in the Athlete’s Village - at reception, in public bathrooms, oh, and even in dispensers at the end of every corridor - just in case the 20 in each of their bedrooms ran out. From the start of athlete arrivals to the closing ceremony, the entire Village seemed to be high on sex and adrenaline.

Perhaps that’s one of the reasons she didn’t want to be in the Village the second time around, because she could still remember feeling left out four years prior. While all the other women were sneaking into the guy’s apartments, she had sat on her own and Facetimed her then boyfriend, Tyler. Looking back, she felt like maybe she missed out a little, so sue her for toying with the idea that maybe, at her final Olympics, she could tick a hookup off the bucket list.

While she couldn’t quite believe her luck, there was no doubt as to Klaus’ intentions, or what he was offering her. Could she sleep with a total stranger? It’d certainly be a first, but he didn’t _feel_ like one. She’d watched too many interviews as a teenager for that. But could she really afford such a distraction when she’d worked so hard for the coming days? Was a petty fling worth losing a place on the podium for?

In her head, she knew it wasn’t. Other parts of her aren’t so sure.

“You can be more firm, sweetheart.”

“It’s injured,” she snarked, “some of us don’t go massaging stranger’s pain points.”

“I could have sworn that you quite enjoyed my hands on you. I know I did.”

“So what exactly did you do to this shoulder?”

“Nothing. It’s perfectly fine, but your coach needn’t know that.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, leaning deeper into the muscle in the knowledge that Klaus Mikaelson was a big fat liar.

Unashamed, he groaned when she pressed into his infraspinatus.

“Good?” she asked.

“More.”

“No,” Caroline breathed, running a finger along the muscle by his shoulder blade. There was a knot, tiny and deep. “You’re tight underneath. Want me to pop it out?”

“Will my arm be in working order afterwards?”

She allowed herself a quick smirk at the tease in his tone. “Oh ye of little trust. Press against my hand. Hold it for 10…”

It went on for a little while. The knot gave her something to focus on, something she knew could distract her from… the other distraction. Besides, it’s not like they’d have time to sneak off anyway. Not with her mom showing up so soon.

“Relax,” she cooed.

As he forced his arm to go limp in her hold, Caroline realised she could have done just about anything with it. The most successful swimmer on the planet had trusted her with his tools.

_What an idiot._

When his shoulder jolted, Klaus let out the most delicious of groans.

Caroline knew that that sound would haunt her for a long time to come.

“Good?” she asked.

“Better.” Klaus rolled over, shaking out his arm. “I think your hands must be magic.”

“Is it okay?”

“It feels good. How strange. You’d think the people I hired would be able to do that.”

There was a little swell in her chest at that - a penchant for being praised that’d held on since she was a child. “Probably too scared to break you.”

He’d been looking at her so strangely, she couldn’t get a read on him.

It was then that the gym door had opened.

Caroline stood immediately, fiddling with the top of her shorts and probably looking very much like she had when her mom had caught her sneaking a boy into her bedroom when she was 16.

To Liz’ credit, she said nothing. The amused raise of her eyebrows let them know exactly what she thought. When neither moved, she held up the spare takeaway cup she carried. “I should…” Caroline had started.

Klaus smirked something wicked, as though he could read every filthy thought she’d ever had about him. “Have a good practice, Caroline.”

She did. Kind of. There was pain, but by and large, her routines went well. Not once did she drop the apparatus - a few fumbles over the course of the hours, but not a single drop. And yes, she was probably pushing herself a little harder to show off, but perhaps that was a good thing? Maybe a little motivation was what she needed to get through the next few weeks of competition.

It was long after he’d left that Liz finally called time on practice. The promise of breakfast had Caroline limping back to the locker rooms uninterrupted that day. It wasn’t until she’d gotten inside and opened her gym bag that she’d found a scrap of torn paper and a scrawled phone number, signed with three letters - _Nik_. She kept it a secret.

She kept it a secret when she texted him, too. It was after lunch, when she felt that enough hours had gone by that she wouldn’t seem desperate, but few enough that he wouldn’t think her cold.

The buzz she got just from messaging him - Whatsapp, because of roaming charges - kept her mind off the pain from the Team USA physio working on her leg. She quickly discovered that Klaus was just as much of a flirt over text as he was in person. Funny too, and fast to respond even though he must have been busy.

Looking back, perhaps she should have been more excited about the Olympics than she was about hooking up with Klaus, but one prospect filled her with dread and the other with a fluttering excitement.

That dichotomy lasted until the nighttime, when the opening ceremony was beautiful and magical. The overwhelming feeling was one of pride, of joy, and of gratitude to get to hold her mother’s hand through it all. She thought of her father too. It wasn’t often that she felt close, or even connected to him, but she knew that he loved competing more than almost anything else on earth. For just a fleeting moment as she watched the fireworks, Caroline allowed herself to wonder if he’d be proud.

All too soon, it was over. As she boarded a bus to take her home to the Village, the dread came rushing back.

* * *

** 24th July 2021 **

The morning of the 24th, Caroline had to take it easy at training. The pain had flared, probably a consequence of her antics the day before. Her mom understood well enough and was happy to work through just her skills. The gym was empty while her and Liz talked, stretched and ran through only the hardest parts of the routines.

She didn’t think much of his absence at the time. In fact, she was grateful for the silence. Even though she hurt, the training session was as productive as any she’d had at home.

After breakfast, they’d returned to the same run down unit for her least favorite part - team training.

At Rio in 2016, USA Rhythmic Gymnastics didn’t even _have_ a team. It was just her and her mom. That was what she preferred. Then, thanks to their ‘outstanding success’ all of a sudden the federation scraped together a few other girls to enter the team competition too.

Really, Caroline only had herself to blame. The federation was medal hungry, and she’d proven that she could bring one home for them - albeit a silver - so they’d asked for two the next time around.

The thing is, that’s not how it works. Most rhythmic teams train together from childhood, and the US National Team had hardly been together a year. Thankfully, Caroline was by far the most advanced gymnast in the squad, meaning that, with the exception of a few highlight moments, the routines felt easy to her. However, with the ease came boredom and very little distraction from the pain. Worse still, the other girls just didn’t seem to _get_ it. They were young - the youngest of them just 15 - and their inexperience showed. Caroline found herself growing frustrated as her mother called the same corrections over and over again to no avail.

It wasn’t until later, when she was in a truly rotten mood that she decided to text him again. Their conversation had gone cold last night before the ceremony, when she’d left him on read in favor of Googling him to catch up on the latest tabloid drama. Recent break up. Go figure.

Caroline, 5:04pm: Hi, sorry I had training. SO BAD.

Klaus, 5:05pm: How so?

Caroline, 5:05pm: We suck. USA would have a better chance at a medal if they’d entered a team of jellyfish.

Caroline, 5:05pm: And the village cafeteria is fresh out of toast. TOAST.

Caroline, 5:05pm: AND there was a queue a mile long for the hot tubs in the gym.

Klaus, 5:06pm: I have toast and a hot tub. Come over.

There was an excited spark at that. Even though she knew that it was a risky move, Caroline couldn’t find any suitable excuses which would make her turn down such an offer.

In the end, she went because she wanted to. It was a moment of weakness, but she absolutely wanted to sleep with him, even if he was using her as a quick rebound.

Besides, the promise of a hot tub was attractive too.

Caroline found herself asking for his address, changing into leggings and a pullover, stuffing a swimsuit into her bag and catching an Uber to his apartment. It wasn’t far away, but her leg ached and she wasn’t about to walk through a foreign city alone.

She had to double check the address before she got out of the car and approached the entrance. The doorman, a short man with a stern expression, only asked for her name before directing her to the penthouse.

There are moments in life that you really, really want to remember. The one when a shirtless Klaus Mikaelson opened the door to his Tokyo apartment for her? Yeah, Caroline wanted to remember that until the day she died.

“Sweetheart,” he purred, lips curling up at the sight as he stepped aside to let her in.

Caroline tried to hide her astonishment at the space and luxury that money could buy. “What a beautiful apartment,” she complimented whilst taking in the phenomenal views of the city. It was a good thing she didn’t mind heights.

Klaus hummed his agreement, “let me show you around.”

And he did. They started in the kitchen, which surprised Caroline because, to be honest, she was really just expecting to see the inside of his bedroom.

Instead, Caroline saw all that the apartment had to offer. Interior done, he’d led her out to the balcony, stripped back the lid of his hot tub and directed her to a bedroom she could change in.

Another one of those life moments came when she had sunk down in hot water and stared out at the Tokyo sunset on the first day of the 2021 Olympic Games.

Another when Klaus returned with buttered toast. After insisting that she take at least a drink of water too, he settled down on a lounger chair by her side.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Caroline had teased, though she was only half joking.

“I spend enough time in the water as is.”

It was just so _weird_. She hadn’t taken his invite as anything other than sex, but food and hot jets on tired muscles was good too. Perhaps the sex came after the toast.

All was quiet for a while. They were so high up, the sounds of car horns and the occasional shout from the streets below were muddled and masked by the gushing of the water around her. Caroline turned and watched his profile.

Another moment, just watching Klaus Mikaelson relax not five feet away.

“Missed you at the gym today,” she’d said softly.

“Yes, well some of us have heats to attend.”

“Heats? You had one today?”

“Two,” he corrected, though not unkindly.

“And?”

Klaus turned just a fraction and raised his eyebrows.

Caroline kept her expression inquisitive and expectant. Of course the greatest swimmer of a generation didn’t have _bad_ heats, but he didn’t need to be arrogant about it either.

After a long beat, he cracked, nodding and pressing his lips together. “They were good.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could swear she saw a tiny smile pulling at his lips when they fell into another silence.

As she nibbled on her toast (careful not to get crumbs in the water), she set her head on the side of the tub. The sun was down, though the sky was still burning red with the last of the light.

“How was training?” Klaus asked politely.

“This morning was good. My coach is pretty happy.”

“Your mother, you mean?”

“Yeah.” Caroline sat up, narrowing her eyes at him. “How did you know?”

“There is a distinct family resemblance, and I read about it online.”

She turned sharply, letting her jaw drop just a little. It’s not like she hadn’t Googled _him_ recently - she’d spend a great deal of last night reading through crappy tabloid news articles about him - but for _him_ to search for _her_?! Caroline thought it best to ignore how proud she felt about it.

“I’m not sure if I’m creeped out or flattered.”

“I like to know who I’m inviting into my space.”

She hummed, “and what did you find out?”

“That your Wikipedia is surprisingly detailed and incredibly well cited.”

Yes, well, she didn’t want false information up there about her, did she?! Randoms on the internet were always getting things wrong, and so she found that it was best if she just… update it herself. It’s not egotistical, it’s just diligent. “Fascinating.”

“Feel free to correct me at any time,” he drawled. “24. 5’7. Grew up in Virginia. Eight time US Champion. Three world all-around titles. The only rhythmic gymnast to have never finished an international competition off of the podium. Olympic silver medalist. Clean technique, light execution, though I’m not entirely sure what that means. How am I doing so far?”

“Annoyingly well,” she bit with a grin. It was a buzz, having his interest.

“I read the most enlightening interview with Gymnastics Weekly, too.”

“Oh god,” she cringed.

“It really resonated with me. The quote you live by. What was it?”

“I can’t remember.” _A lie._

“No, I remember it now. Never let the fear of striking out, keep you from playing the game.”

Caroline groaned, rolling her head back. “It’s from _A Cinderella Story_.”

“What?”

“It’s a movie. And probably Hilary Duff’s finest work. And now that you’ve made fun of it, I’m gonna make you watch it.”

Klaus’ sharp laugh was like music to her ears. “I look forward to it, sweetheart.”

They spoke long after that, until the city lights shone bright through the darkness and Caroline’s fingers were pruned. They’d joked about how much morning training sucked, how stupid sports federations could be, how awful diets were. Then they went on to the Olympics in general. How they’d both been at Rio and missed one another.

Eventually she’d hoisted herself out of the tub and went to change in a spare bedroom once again. When she’d come out, Klaus had guided her to the kitchen and let her sit on the island stool while he cooked. He had cooked _real_ food. Chicken, greens and spiced rice, and then after, he’d set a packet of cookies on the counter for desert.

Caroline hadn’t eaten a cookie in a long, long time. That hit of sugar was like hard drugs. He’d laughed at her exaggerated moan.

Sometime later, when they’d migrated to the comfortable couches in front of the TV, she’d thought that he’d finally make a move. Instead, he’d sat on the other couch and asked her what her plans were when the Games were over.

She had half a mind to tell him that if he wanted to get in her pants, he really didn’t need to work so hard. Then again, his attention felt nice. He studied her avidly and she had no doubt that he was listening to every word that she said.

That’s why she replied, “I’m retiring.” It was probably the first time she’d said it to anyone who wasn’t her mom. “I’m old.”

Klaus had just snorted at her, shaking his head as he sat back.

“I am, though. Most of the girls I compete against are teenagers. The ones I grew up with quit at 20 or 21. I’m the second oldest in the division this Olympics.”

“I know,” Klaus replied.

Caroline rolled her eyes at his apparently very thorough web research. “So you’ll also know that I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Injured or not, love. We all have to give it up sometime. None of us can do it forever.”

She nodded, though the sadness still bubbled in her stomach at the notion. It was a difficult feeling to grapple with, the relief of letting her body rest and the frustration at having to. Most of all, the heartache at her mom’s reaction lingered. Yes, it was Caroline’s dream, but it was her mom’s too. And it was all coming to an end in just a few weeks.

Instead of brooding in the silence, Caroline stuck on a smile. “You seem to be doing just fine.”

Klaus nodded and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “I am.”

She eyed him for a second. “I have a confession.”

“Oh?”

“I Googled you too.”

“And what did you find?”

Caroline regretted bringing it up when the endless stream of tabloid pieces sprung to mind. “Lots of things,” she settled on, “they write about you a lot.”

He’d tilted his head in agreement.

“Don’t you wish… I don’t know. Is it harder, being so famous? I can’t imagine the pressure.”

“There are benefits and disadvantages. I wouldn’t say that there is a significant change in pressure though.”

She couldn’t help herself when the curiosity struck. “Doesn’t it bother you? Having things written about you all the time?”

Klaus considered it, choosing his words carefully. “I suppose it would, were the stories true. They never are. Those who sell stories to the press are rarely close enough to know anything worthwhile.”

For all he had been friendly so far, Caroline doubted that that was the truth. She’d already caught a glimpse of just how easily he could lie, charm and tease. For all her faults, Caroline knew a manipulator when she saw one. Yet his manipulation didn’t make him any less attractive. In fact, it made him an enigma, one she badly wanted to crack. “So you have to keep people out? That must be exhausting.”

“Hardly. Take you, for example. We’re having a pleasant time, aren’t we? Have I given you anything tonight that you couldn’t find on the internet?”

Caroline raked her mind for a titbit before setting on, “no.”

“No. As much as I’d like to, I don’t know you. My secrets are reserved for those I trust.”

“You’re scared I’d sell a story?”

Klaus shrugged. “It’s not so much the story which is troublesome, but what comes after. The implications it may have for other aspects of my life, or for those close to me.”

She nodded softly, crossing her legs as she mulled over his position. In truth, Caroline had no desire to sell anything to the papers. She’d seen up close how media attention and stardom could ruin a man when it’d driven her father to drink. No, she was perfectly content to avoid exacerbating the problems he probably faced too. “I understand.”

“Good, because I want to talk about you.”

“Me?”

“Your hopes, your dreams, everything you want in life.”

Caroline balked. “I think you’ll be disappointed. I’m not very interesting.”

“I disagree. Why don’t you start by telling me about where you grew up? Virginia?”

By the end of the night, she still wanted to sleep with him. Hell, she probably wanted it even more than she had before. Klaus was funny, smart and charming, and quite nice to look at too. Yet the night just seemed to get away from her in a flurry of giggles and great company. The moment to make the come on just never came.

The nightclubs were emptying out onto the city streets when she finally caught an Uber back to the Village alone.

* * *

** 25th July 2021 **

Caroline took a bathroom break midway through team training to Google the result of his semi-final race. She sent a congratulatory text before heading back in. After practice, she checked her phone for a reply.

Klaus, 3.25pm: Are you coming over tonight?

Well, the allure of good food had her typing the affirmative. They celebrated at his place with homemade tacos and Netflix. Once again, the night just seemed to fly by. When she was snuggled up on the couch, the tiredness had hit her hard, and hooking up was the last thing on her mind. Perhaps he felt the same way - Klaus had let her stretch her calves over his lap and his fingers didn’t wander when they curved around her ankle.

She was back at the Village before midnight.

* * *

** 26th July 2021 **

As she stepped into his apartment for the third time, she realised that it was becoming a habit.

“Heard you made another final,” Caroline shot him a gentle smile, “I’m almost tired of saying congratulations.”

Klaus promptly batted away her flattery with a shake of his head, “what’s the excuse tonight, then?”

“Drugs test,” she replied, setting her bag on the counter. She’d soon run out of excuses to sneak off and see him, but her roommate seemed to be pretty oblivious so far. Her mother too, though Caroline rarely had to lie to her given Liz’ busy schedule with the other Team USA coaches.

Once he’d fed her, they’d laid on the couch for a while. Klaus massaged her calf until she groaned and Caroline let herself get just a little hot under the collar.

It was nice to feel wanted again.

Just as she was debating the merits of pouncing on him, a melodic tune rattled from beneath her leg. Klaus shifted to pull his phone from his pocket. He looked at the screen for only a second before his brow furrowed.

“Everything okay?”

The chiming stopped when he tapped the screen. He was quiet for just a second before he leant forwards and placed the device face down on the coffee table. “Fine.”

“Who is it? Do you need to-?”

Klaus shook his head, glancing over to catch her eye. “Just an ex. I stopped picking up a while ago but she is persistent.”

Caroline stilled at his honesty and tried to swallow the twinge of jealousy. “It might be important.”

“Nothing is important to her. I have no want or need to speak with her anymore.” There was no spite in his voice.

“Maybe she wants to get back together?”

“Oh, I’m aware that she does. One of the many reasons I no longer entertain her calls. If she really needed something, she has my manager’s number.” Klaus turned his focus back to the TV and stroked his hand over her knee. “Now hush.”

Caroline found it difficult to focus after that, not because she wanted his ex to back off, but because he _had_ an ex. One who still wanted him enough to call. Of course he had that - he had everything. Money, fame, gold medals, a family, and now someone who loved him romantically too.

She quietened her thoughts by reaching over to the coffee table and pinching a cookie from the container.

It was one of the best things about hanging out with him, she’d decided. Klaus had an ample stock of snack foods that she usually denied herself. The kind they didn’t even stock in the Athlete’s Village - chips, chocolate and all kinds of baked goods. They were for his brother, he had said as he set them in front of her, but he could get more.

She didn’t eat much, but even a taste of the sugar was reason enough to stick around.

* * *

** 27th July 2021 **

The next day was supposed to be a rest day, yet Caroline ended up heading to the fitness centre anyway. She told herself that it was because she needed to stretch out her muscles, but really it was because the centre had the biggest TV in the whole Village.

It was there that she watched his first final - the 200m butterfly, swallowing down second hand nerves as other gym-goers buzzed around her, oblivious.

Swimming was a funny sport, she’d decided. Firstly, there was the way they walked out in a tracksuit only to strip down literally ten seconds later. Secondly, there were the skin tight shorts which didn’t leave much to the imagination. Thirdly, the caps and goggles were just straight up funny looking.

Caroline appreciated the way the camera lingered on Klaus though, a heavy-handed highlight on the returning champion. The TV was muted, and instead chart music played through the centre’s speakers. It was a strange contrast, the fluttering in her stomach against the generic tunes of Doja Cat.

She found herself crossing her fingers when the competitors lined up.

In the end, it was over quickly. In under 52 seconds, the South African just beat Klaus to the finish. Caroline couldn’t help but feel a little gutted for him. A silver Olympic medal was still special - that she knew - but it wasn’t what anyone wanted.

Still, he smiled and fist bumped the guy in the next lane.

A few hours after, she got the invite over.

“Congratulations!” she’d beamed.

Standing in the doorway, Klaus had hummed his approval and wrapped his arms around her waist for a hug.

It was new, being in his arms, but she didn’t mind at all. His body was hot and smelled like expensive cologne. She wondered if that would be the night that they finally…

Well, she wouldn’t have said no.

They celebrated in the hot tub looking out over the city. It was all flirty jokes and thinly veiled innuendos, till she decided that she was done with playing coy. When she kissed him, he sent her head in a spin. The taste of him, the gentleness of his hands, the slickness of his lips, all of it was intoxicating. He kept it modest and sensual, holding her waist and allowing there to be some space between them.

When he pulled away, he smirked at her devilishly. “I’m going to make pasta, want some?”

Caroline was a goner.

It wasn’t until they had sat down after dinner that her frustration niggled. It had only been three days so she could hardly pull the ‘ _what are we?_ ’ conversation, and yet she longed to know what was going on in his head. Three days she’d been at his apartment, more than ready to be acquainted with his bedsheets and yet he seemed to give her nothing beyond a facade.

His phone buzzed again. With one look, Klaus had stood. “I apologise, love. I have to take this one.”

He’d left her with the TV remote and her thoughts. Caroline wasn’t a big TV-watcher at the best of times, and entertained herself scrolling through Instagram. She could hear the murmur of his voice in the next room, but it wasn’t clear enough to pick up. Of course, her mind went to his ex. Aurora de Martel, she’d learned after a thorough internet stalk that day. It wasn’t an unfair assumption that that was who he was talking to, given the timing and what sounded like gentleness in his voice.

She was easy enough to find on Instagram, with the big blue checkmark and all. The feed was a long stretch of professional photographs. A Vogue cover here, a CK billboard there, the occasional selfie standing out. All of them stunning, of course.

Caroline closed the app when she heard footsteps. As soon as he’d returned and assured her that all was well, she’d noticed the two boxes sitting on the coffee table.

“Is that?” she’d asked. Her heart picked up speed.

Klaus tilted his head which she took as permission to lean forwards and lift one towards her. The box was a sleek black with five metallic gold rings and ‘TOKYO 2020’ emblazoned on the front. She opened it carefully, and inside lay a familiar sight. She felt a little pride in that it was identical to the one she had in the safe at home, though hers lived in a pebble-shaped wooden box with ‘RIO 2016’ instead.

“May I?” she’d asked curiously.

When he nodded again, she flipped it over to see a distinctive, modern design on the back.

“Beautiful,” she sighed, thumbling over the details. “I watched the race, you know.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Is there a reason your shorts are so tight?”

He’d chuckled, running his hand through his curls. “Is there a reason that your dresses are so short?”

“Yes. A shorter costume makes your legs look longer. It’s an illusion. Better lines make your execution score higher.”

“And the sparkles? What purpose do they serve?”

“Distraction, mostly. The sparklier your torso, the less likely the judges are to notice when you forget to straighten your knees.”

“And the cutouts?”

Caroline threw him a flat look which only made him laugh harder. “It’s mesh fabric, if you must know.”

“I must. I’ve grown a deep appreciation for those dazzling little costumes you wear. Perhaps one of these days you could show me your new ones?”

Despite the heat in her cheeks and the filth which sprung to mind, Caroline giggled alongside him. “They’re pretty stretchy, but I’m just not sure they’d fit you.”

Then the realisation hit her - when she was training, she wore whatever scraps of sponsored clothing she had. Usually shorts and a plain leotard or tank top, never her costumes. “You watched me,” she hummed accusingly.

He had the decency to look a little embarrassed, though the way his dimples popped when he grinned was far too attractive to be truly rueful. “You look good in blue.”

Before she had the chance to be flattered, her stomach sank. Blue… blue like she wore for the club performance at the last Olympics. She quickly looked for a reason to change the subject.

The medal on her lap seemed like as good an excuse as any. “I thought you might be disappointed,” she said nodding to the shining silver.

It took him a beat to catch up, to realise that their flirting had been cut short. “Not at all,” Klaus replied, stretching his arm over the back of the seat (and around her, she noted). “On the contrary, I’m quite relieved that the notion of living up to 2012 is already gone.”

“2012?” Caroline asked, as though she hadn’t already memorised his achievements.

“I won everything I entered. 8 events.”

She nodded, turning the medal back over and closing the lid. “What’s in the other box?”

Klaus had petted gentle fingers over her shoulder blade. “The gold.”

“The gold?”

He leaned forwards then, snatching up the other box and thumbing the lid open. Inside sat a shining gold.

Caroline froze once again, something akin to shock flooding her veins as he held it out to her. She took it quickly.

The few times she’d met her father, he’d taken great pride in showing her his medal. It was one of the only positive memories she had of him. His warmth and joy when he’d spoken about winning had endured nearly twenty years in her memory. Now his medal was probably locked away somewhere in his parent’s house. All her life, she’d wanted that gold medal. When he hadn’t left it to her on his passing, she’d resolved to earn her own.

The metal gleamed as her fingertips touched its edge. “You won?” she breathed.

“200 freestyle. It was a few hours after.”

“Oh,” was all she could say.

It was beautiful. It’d been a long time since she’d seen one in the flesh.

He’d been so casual - he hadn’t mentioned it even once. He’d just won the freaking Olympics and she hadn’t had the slightest clue.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she gushed when she realised. “I missed this one. This is amazing. Fifteen, right? Congratulations.”

Fifteen gold medals. He had _fifteen gold medals_.

The things she’d do for even one. To be an Olympic champion had been the goal ever since her dad died. Her mom still has the drawings she’d done in kindergarten, the ones of a stick figure with a medal and a bouquet.

Her face must have faltered, because Klaus’ tone was laced with concern. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

“I’m just…” she began before the words failed her.

He spoke about his medals so casually, as though they came easily. As though she hadn’t dedicated her entire life in pursuit of just one of them.

“I’ve always dreamed about it. I just… I guess some things just aren’t meant to be.”

“A strange attitude, given that you haven’t competed yet.”

She smiled sadly before closing the lid on his gold and leaning back. “Before 2016, I really thought that I could do it. There is this girl, Katerina. She’s the only one who could have beaten me, and I was ahead of her going into finals. It was all going so well, and then I just messed up. I know it’s probably different for you, but I was so ready to retire last time. I just wanted to be done, to go to college and have a normal life like any other 19 year old, but after I messed up I just… couldn’t.”

“Because of your mother?”

Caroline shifted a little, debating how much she wanted him to know, but hell, she had nothing to hide, no reason to withhold anything from him. “Not really. She doesn’t force me or anything. I just want it so badly for her. Plus, Team USA pay almost double for a gold. We still have medical expenses - she had cancer a few years back. Then the virus happened and everything got pushed back a year and-” she fizzled out when she realised that he had probably felt the same torment at the delay. “I’m just ready for it to be over. Everything hurts all the time.”

She knew she was ranting, but there was no one else to tell. She’d kept so many feelings inside for so long, that when she started, they bubbled up to the surface and overwhelmed her. “And then, after I’m told that I have to keep training for another full year - as if that doesn’t suck enough - I broke my leg.”

Klaus watched her with narrowed eyes. “Forgive me, love. But none of this explains why you sound so defeated. You have a clean slate, do you not?”

“Score wise, yes. But I thought that with Katerina retiring, it’d be a clear field. There are good girls, but I’ve beaten them all before. Then just after I got injured she announced that she was coming out of retirement. Just for this. Just to spite me, probably.”

“Katerina is the Russian?” He’d questioned. Caroline narrowed her eyes at his astuteness, until he’d added, “Gymnastics Weekly mentioned one.”

She’d rolled her eyes but wrestled her amusement at the extent of his internet stalking. “Bulgarian, technically. She only competes for Russia because they pay her more.”

Klaus snorted. “How patriotic of her.”

“Yeah.”

She couldn’t shake the deep sense of longing. Regret, perhaps, that this was what she’d come to. A second Olympics fighting the same demons as she had at the last one.

Klaus let her wallow in self pity for a while as they sat in silence. From so high up, the sounds of the city were faint and muffled.

Eventually he spoke, “it won’t make you happy, you know. The medal.”

“I know,” Caroline replied, “but it’d be a good start.”

She’d stayed till past midnight that night. When they’d parted, he’d pressed gentle lips against her cheek. Caroline had tried to kill the butterflies in her stomach all the way home.

* * *

** 28th July 2021 **

The day before Group semi-finals, Caroline was wracked with irritation. Everything felt wrong, from the bitterness of the coffee her mom had bought her for 9am practice, to the warmth that the extra bodies brought to the gym. While she was professional enough to swallow her feelings and listen to her coach, she was in a jittery mood from the first thing in the morning.

It didn’t help that her teammates were so damn young. Samantha, Rose, Olivia and Alice were just kids starting out their senior careers, most of them hadn’t even made a final at a senior meet before, and now they were expected to perform at the Olympics?! Their nervous energy turned them hyper and yappy.

Lunch was brought to them, a platter of finger sandwiches from some chain restaurant in the city. As two of her teammates squabbled playfully over the last chicken tikka, Caroline had slipped away to the bathroom to check up on Klaus’ race. Through to the finals in the 200m medley. In 1st by a clear margin.

Caroline returned to the gym and tried to keep her distance from the rest of the team until the break was over. It probably wasn’t great for team synergy, but it was what she needed to calm herself.

It was almost a relief when they were called upon to start warming up again. The next practice was overseen by the heads of Team USA gymnastics, not just Liz. Caroline hated that even more. People who had little respect for rhythmic tried to tell her how things should be for hours on end, when they hadn’t given her the time, money or facilities needed to make it happen. God, the hypocrisy of it all.

By dinner, the frustration and tiredness compounded into anxiety. She’d texted Klaus earlier after learning about his third medal of the Games - gold in the 200m butterfly. Setting Google notifications for him was a smart move.

After the team dinner they’d eaten on the stained floor of the training facility, then a quick shower in the locker rooms, Caroline told her teammates that she was going to stay behind and speak to her mom for a bit. She’d then told her mom that she was going for an early night. No one batted an eyelid when she eventually packed up her things and caught an Uber over to his place.

After brushing away her congratulations, Klaus had stuck some stupid Hallmark film on the TV while he massaged her bad leg through her leggings. It must have been hard for him, given that Caroline couldn’t keep still. She never could relax the night before a competition, never mind the Olympics. Never mind the fact that she was competing in a group event for the first time ever. Never mind the fact that she was doing it all with what should have been a career-ending injury. Was she setting herself up for another embarrassment?

“Caroline?”

“Hmm?” she jolted, turning to him sharply.

“Can I do anything? To help?”

It should have been the last thing on her mind, really. The way that his fingers stroked along her leg wasn’t sexual, yet she found herself craving something more than movies and platitudes. She dithered for a second. Would it ruin whatever they had going? What if he rejected her? Did he even want her like that? Wouldn’t he have made a move already?

 _It’s just for the Games_ , she rationalised. _It’s not like you’ll ever see him again._

In the end, she risked it. “I just don’t want to think right now.”

Klaus understood. At a relaxed pace, his eyes dropped down the length of her body. Without a hint of sarcasm, he murmured, “I could take your mind off it, if you’d like?”

Caroline felt her core clenching at the sinful tone. She sat up, wriggling closer until her hands stroked over his shoulders, feeling the heat beneath.

Klaus smirked a little but didn’t move. He wasn’t afraid to meet her gaze. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Out loud.”

She’d sighed her frustration, but the hunger in his expression had her stomach fluttering. “I want you to show me your bedroom.”

“And?”

“Jesus Christ, Klaus. Do you need a handbook?”

Klaus had laughed before he leaned over, pressing her back to lie against the cushions. “No,” he growled before kissing her filthily. “I just wanted to see you squirm.”

“Take me to bed and you just might.”

So he had.

First he’d touched every inch of her on the couch, then he’d carried her to his room and stripped her bare. Klaus had spread her thighs apart and made her writhe on his tongue and then his cock. When she’d fallen apart, he slowed but never stopped. He’d flipped her to her hands and knees and started all over again. She quickly realised that, along the god-like torsos, swimmers had stamina to boot.

Caroline couldn’t remember exactly when she’d fallen asleep. All she knew was that she did. That, and that he was a damn good distraction.

* * *

** 29th July 2021 **

Even without her alarm, she woke at 5am. The bed was comfortable and the sheets smelled like sex and cologne. When Caroline moved to untangle herself from them, an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against his chest.

“Shower?” Klaus offered, lips brushing against her shoulder.

She hadn’t realised at the time that he’d meant it not as an offer, but as an invite. She had no complaints. Being pressed up against his body under a waterfall shower wasn’t a bad start to the morning.

There wasn’t time for anything beyond a few gentle kisses. With every passing second, her stomach grew more unsettled. By the time she’d pulled on yesterday’s clothes and stumbled out of his bedroom, the sun was shining. His apartment was beautiful in the daylight, all marble tops and sleek leather.

“What do you eat in the morning?” he’d called from the fridge.

Caroline let her eyes drink in the sight of his broad shoulders in the red, white and blue of the Team GB tracksuit. “Nothing, I’ll just grab something on the way.”

“Eat here. The dining hall is always busy before competition starts.”

And well, he had a point. After fighting her way through the crowds in Rio, she probably should have remembered that. When she was done picking at her eggs on toast, she called an Uber and let him walk her to the door.

She refused to let it be awkward. “200 freestyle heat, right?”

“Tracking me now?”

She’d almost managed a smile, but the anxiety was too severe. “A little. Good luck.”

Klaus had chucked at her tone and pulled her in for a hug.

When she was tucked against his chest, it was easier to admit how much it had helped, having someone there. “Thanks for last night…”

He silenced her with a tutting noise and cradled her face. When he looked down at her, Caroline wasn’t sure if the butterflies were for the competition, or for him. “Don’t thank me, love. Just make finals. We can celebrate tonight, hmm?”

And just like that, he turned a one night stand into… something else. The memory of the previous night was enough to have Caroline finally letting a tiny smile grow.

By some miracle and the grace of God, Team USA qualified for the rhythmic team final in 10th spot.

That night, she’d thanked him down on her knees.

**Author's Note:**

> If y'all want me to write gratuitous Olympian smut as a seperate one-shot just @ me in comments please


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